


love you in every color

by crystalklances



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Keith (Voltron), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Musician Lance (Voltron), Smitten Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Lance (Voltron), ftm mlm writer, implied mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalklances/pseuds/crystalklances
Summary: Keith expresses his love for Lance in his art, showing the sides of Lance he adores that not everyone sees so openly. After a particular success, he finally expresses it in other ways, too.





	love you in every color

**Author's Note:**

> To the anonymous person, thank you so much for giving me the chance to write this. Your support means a lot.
> 
> I hope everyone will like this piece as much as I loved writing it. And to those who didn't know yet, I relate to Lance a whole lot when it comes to my identity and I _always_ pour a piece of myself in when writing him, whether I openly say that he's trans or not. And with this fic, I poured in so much of my heart that it's really dear and personal to me.

Keith remembered the first time he met Lance like it was yesterday.

It was early in their freshman year of college when Keith decided to go to a pride meeting to connect with people. He entered the room, curious and nervous at once. And there he was. Keith’s eyes were immediately drawn in by the bright aura in the middle of the room.

Brown skin with freckles like a sky full of stars. Choppy curls. An adorable upturned nose and dimpled smile. Stylish clothes in white, soft pink, pastel blue. _The trans flag_ , Keith recognized.

In hindsight, it was fate that the only free chair Keith could spot was next to the boy who he soon learned was called Lance. Up close, Keith was able to admire the sparkling blue of his eyes, the way his features were sharp, yet delicate. His shoulders broad, but his frame slender.

If Keith was a sword, then Lance was an ornate knife. They were _different_ , but both the same, both blades in their own way.

When the meeting was over, they left at the same time. Keith could feel something in the air. He wondered if Lance could feel it, too, if anyone else could feel it. They started chatting as they were walking. Keith found out that they lived in the same dorm building. They talked the whole way.

After that time, they continued hanging out. And now, nearly four years later, they were long-since best friends.

It wasn’t just because they both were gay, nor just because they were in the same year and could connect through their artistic majors. Even if Lance’s beauty had drawn him in, tickling Keith’s artistic senses in all the right ways, it wasn’t just that. It was Lance’s whole being, his aura, his bright smile; how endearing he was, his silly jokes.

They seemed to clash at first glance, but that’s what made them match so well.

Keith loved how they could always motivate each other to keep doing their best in studies. He loved how they could be highly competitive and determined to beat the other when playing video games, but when playing as a team, they were a force to be reckoned with. He was able to rant about soccer to Lance, could _discuss_ it with him, and Lance came to watch every match and cheer him on. They had each other’s backs. If anyone gave Lance weird looks, Keith stared them down. If anyone made fun of Keith, Lance talked back at them while at the same time making sure that Keith wouldn’t jump into fight mode.

Just thinking about Lance filled Keith’s chest with warmth. The feeling only intensified because he was on the way to meet Lance in his dorm room. When he stopped at the door, he heard the familiar strum of a guitar accompanied by Lance’s voice softly sounding through the wall.

Keith stood, leaning his head against the door with a smile, eyes closed. Lance’s music never failed to touch Keith’s heart, trickling deep into his soul, stripping him down until nothing was left but bare feeling. Keith could lose himself in it forever, drown in the sound of Lance’s voice and his instrument; the emotions it evoked in him. It depended on the type of song Lance was playing, but usually, Keith felt one thing above all else: pure affection.

When the music stopped, Keith took the opportunity to knock without interrupting Lance. He knocked two sets of three short knocks with the briefest pause in between—the signal they had thought up back in freshman year so Lance could know it was Keith and wouldn’t have to get anxious in case he wasn’t binding at the time. It still gave Keith butterflies; knowing that Lance trusted him like this.

Barely a second after he finished knocking, Lance called him in. Keith walked in to the sight of Lance sitting on the bed, legs crossed, guitar in his lap. As usual, he was wearing loose-fitting clothes in several layers—short sleeved tees with cardigans or button-ups, long-sleeved shirts with hoodie vests, often the perfect mix of sporty and chic.

Keith had always loved the way he looked in pastel colors with a splash of brightness, like colorful posters for soda or bubblegum. Fashion was another contrast between them; Keith preferred combining bright red with black, gray, and white, as well as darker shades of other colors. Lance always called him an ‘edgy jock’ for his choice of colors and his preferred style of sweats and his varsity jacket.

Lance gave him a smile. “Hey.”

Keith smiled back as he walked over to join him on the bed. He took a second to admire the way Lance’s red glasses framed the blue of his eyes before he said, “Hey.”

“How was training?”

“Alright, I guess. Same as usual. Getting sore and sweaty.” Keith shrugged. “Did I interrupt? You can keep playing.” He hoped to watch Lance play, even; wanted to let the sound wash over him, yearned to see Lance’s content, relaxed face as he lost himself in his own music. After all, it was a major source of inspiration, for his upcoming project as well.

“Nah, it’s fine. I was just playing around while waiting for you.” Lance put the guitar down, letting it rest in his lap. He tilted his head, studying Keith’s face. “Everything alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

“Are you still thinking about what to do for the illustration contest?” Lance asked.

“Sort of. I have a clear vision of what I _want_ to do, but…”

“You need a model?” Lance offered. “Why didn’t you ask right away? I’ll do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.” Keith fidgeted with his thumb and fingers. “You might change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Lance said. He took Keith’s hand, just a loose hold, but a simple gesture to calm Keith’s nerves. Keith resisted the urge to rub his thumb over Lance’s fingers instead. “I’ve always been up for it, haven’t I? You know I love helping you. And I guess I won’t say no to the attention, either.”

Keith snorted a fond laugh. “I know, I know. And you’re the one I have in mind too, but…”

“So what makes you think that I wouldn’t want to do it?” Lance asked.

Keith hesitated for a second. “I want to paint you showing your soft side, no overcompensating, no hiding who you really are,” he finally explained. “I know you’re self-conscious about it, but I always thought that’s what makes you beautiful.”

“Oh.” Lance looked surprised, flustered.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it,” Keith pointed out. “I can think of something else. Your comfort is more important than my vision for the contest.”

“I _want_ to do it,” Lance said firmly, holding Keith’s gaze. Keith could see what Lance felt reflected in his eyes: nervousness, but also determination and—trust. Keith wondered what Lance could see in his eyes—if he could see all his admiration, adoration, gratitude. “You can’t change my mind.”

Keith sucked in a breath through his nose. “Okay. I won’t try to stop you.”

Lance grinned. “Good call. You know, you’re not the only one here who can be stubborn.”

Keith smiled. “Can you play for me?”

Lance breathed a laugh. He held Keith’s hand for a second longer before he let go and picked up his guitar again. “Gladly.”

And when the first note resonated through the air and Lance looked at peace, Keith felt that all was right in the world.

 

Keith had everything he needed—pencils, paint, palette, brushes, a container with water. A large, blank canvas on the easel in front of him. And most importantly: Lance.

Lance was nestled in a pile of soft pillows and blankets on the bed, bathed in the warm sunlight streaming in through the window. The pink and blue pillows were arranged in a way to simulate the trans flag, with Lance wearing all white in the center. On his hair, a crown of pink and white roses and the blue of forget-me-nots completed the look. With his ukulele in hand, the setting, the lighting, the mood was relaxed and intimate, like a lazy Sunday summer morning shared with a loved one that the painting would give a glimpse into. Even putting aside his yearning to be that loved one, to have this moment with Lance be his every morning for the rest of his life, Keith knew this was _perfect_.

But he had to make sure.

“And you’re _really_ fine with this?” Keith asked. “With all of this, with your binder visible?”

“Yes,” Lance replied. His voice was firm but honest and reassuring at the same time. “I picked the sheer hoodie myself, didn’t I? It’s okay.”

“Okay.” Keith picked up a pencil to make the base sketch. “Let me know if you need a break, okay?”

“Will do.” Lance smiled. “Go on, then. Do the magic and make a masterpiece happen.”

Keith huffed a laugh. “Only if you play for me while I do.”

“Guess I have no choice.”

Keith worked calmly, entirely focused on the task. Even if Lance hadn’t made the fond joke, Keith was determined to make this his masterpiece, since the moment he had first had the vision. It wasn’t so much about the contest; sure, Keith would love to win, but above all, this was for _him_. He poured in all his affection, the deep adoration, all his pure _love_ for Lance he’d held in his heart for so long. While Keith wasn’t exactly the best at keeping it _hidden_ , he’d never truly said it _out loud_ —keeping to earnest gestures and fond smiles. But he was ready to change that. He wanted to _tell_ Lance. And expressing his honest, unadulterated feelings through his art was the first step.

The whole time, the only sound in the room was the strum of the ukulele, the soft hum of Lance’s voice. He was wearing the serene, content smile Keith had hoped to capture, to eternalize on the canvas. Each time he looked up in between brush strokes, he fell in love all over again. He was looking at the brightest star of the universe, the warm rays of sunshine lighting up his life and heart. Keith’s chest was tight with the desire to walk over, to feel soft skin and silky hair beneath his fingertips, to lean in and kiss Lance’s lips. But he couldn’t do that. _Not yet_.

 _But soon_.

If fate wasn’t toying with him, this beautiful, amazing boy could be his, they could be side by side. Sharing their lives, the good times and bad times, like they’ve already been doing, but with no holding back. Expressing their affection for each other in every way imaginable. He would treasure Lance every day, be there for him through everything. And he knew that Lance would do the same.

Keith smiled.

He could be wrong, he could mess this up, but he wanted to believe that they were meant to be, that he could have this love. That their future would be bright and happy, full of warmth and love like the painting in front of him.

“What are you smiling for?”

Lance’s voice cut him from his thoughts. When Keith looked up, he saw that Lance’s fingers were resting on the strings, pausing in his playing.

“No reason,” Keith said, smile not leaving his lips. His voice held all the warmth Lance made him feel. “It’s a good day.”

“Hmmm…” Lance strummed a single note. “How are you coming along?”

“It’s going well,” Keith said. He did a few more strokes before he cleaned the brush in the water and carefully put it down on some paper towels. “Actually, I think now’s a good time for a break. The paint needs to dry for now and you need to stay hydrated. It’s lunchtime too, and I could use some coffee.” He hesitated before he offered, “If you want to stay here, I could get stuff and bring something for you.”

“That’s sweet of you, but it’s fine.” Lance gingerly put the ukulele down on the bed before he stood and stretched his arms. “I need to stretch my legs, anyway.”

“Okay.” Keith rose as well, imitating the stretch, taking care of his wrists while he was at it. He caught Lance staring at the way his shirt rode up to reveal well-toned abs, the way his arms flexed. When Lance noticed that he’d been caught, he looked away quickly, a faint blush on his cheeks. Keith grinned. This was very useful information. “Let’s go, then.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The whole time they were walking through the building and sitting at the dining hall, Keith kept glancing at Lance to make sure he was comfortable. When Lance caught his eye, he smiled. Keith instinctively reached out to take Lance’s hand in his own. He didn’t care what anyone else might think, as long as Lance was okay with this. Even if their fingers weren’t linked, this felt so _right_. This was how it was supposed to be. And Lance didn’t pull away. He squeezed in affirmation, a silent “I like this, I like holding your hand.” Keith squeezed back, hoping it showed everything he wanted to tell—how much he liked this, that he never wanted to let go.

They returned to Keith’s room, Lance settling back into pose while Keith returned to his workspace.

The lighting was starting to change as the sun was wandering across the sky, but the rays continued to illuminate Lance. Together with the visualization burned into his inner eye, Keith was able to create the perfect image. He was itching to take his camera, to turn this into a shoot to immortalize the scene on film, as well. But he had his masterpiece to focus on. There would be more opportunities to take Lance’s perfect picture for a project, just like in the past. Keith had always loved portraying Lance in each medium he excelled in, in all different facets.

Like before, Lance was playing while Keith was painting him, alternating between silent chords, wordless hums, soft songs. Keith’s heart was full to bursting.

By the end of the afternoon, Keith was satisfied with his finished work.

When he called for Lance to come and have a look, Lance stared in awe. There was something in his eyes that Keith found hard to read, somewhere between surprised confusion and flattered bashfulness.

“Is this how you see me?” Lance asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Keith replied earnestly. There was no use in denying it. He didn’t even _want_ to, had never wanted to.

All Lance did in return was to take a shaky breath. There was silence before he spoke again, voice still soft. “What are you gonna title it?”

“ _A boy and his ukulele_ ,” Keith replied.

“Seriously? Such a lame, generic title for… this?” Lance made a vague gesture with his arms.

“Yeah.” Keith nodded seriously, trying to hold back the grin.

Because that was a lie. He already had a title—the _perfect_ title. But he wouldn’t reveal it, not yet. Even as Lance whined, lightly boxing his shoulders, and Keith finally couldn’t stop himself from laughing at his antics anymore. It would stay his secret until the end, only revealed for the judges of the contest.

When they parted ways for the night, they shared a brief hug good night. It didn’t last longer than a mere few seconds, but it felt like eternity. Keith took a deep breath, tried to take in as much of Lance’s scent as he could, drank in the dizzying aroma like fruits and sweet treats at tea time in a royal flower garden. He didn’t want to let go, but he had to. _For now_.

Back in his room, Keith took a long look at the painting before he prepared to turn in for the night. As he closed his eyes and drifted off, Lance’s image, his scent, the ghost of his touch never left his mind.

 

A few weeks later, Keith was called in to meet his professor. He was surprised, being summoned this late in the day when he couldn’t think of a reason, but his curiosity won over when he entered the office and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

There was a moment of silence before the professor asked, “Do you know why you’re here?”

“That’s what I‘d like to know,” Keith replied drily.

“Surely you remember about the contest?”

“Yeah?” Keith raised an eyebrow. That was a strange question—he’s participated in this contest for the fourth time now.

“Well…” The professor smiled. “Congratulations.”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“Congratulations. You’ve won the first prize.”

“For real?” Keith couldn’t believe his ears. He knew he was one of the best in his year, has done well in any contests throughout the years as well as made impressions outside of campus. But winning the big, annual prize of the contest held in the entire fine arts department? That was a feat even he hadn’t succeeded in yet.

“Yes, for real.” The professor smiled again. “First, you’ve truly outdone yourself—we’ve always known you were highly skilled, but we were very impressed with how far you’ve come since you’ve started here. But most of all, we were touched by the motif you chose and the emotions it conveyed.”

“Really?”

The professor nodded. “Yes. The way you captured the subject’s expression, the intimate setting, the composition of soft colors and the light source giving an ethereal air… It’s visible how much heart and love you’ve put into the painting. Fitting to the title, we could feel the love.”

“Yeah, that’s, that’s the kind of message I wanted to give,” Keith said, unsure what else he was supposed to do.

The professor regarded him for a moment. “The boy has been in your art frequently, hasn’t he? It’s easy to see that you are close.”

“Yeah, we’re, we’re best friends. We’re really close.”

The professor gave another smile, warm and knowing all at once. He said, “Well, that was all for now. The official announcement will be as usual, I just wanted to let you know in private beforehand. The painting will be in our exhibition for everyone to see, you can have it back after the usual period.”

“Okay,” Keith said. He rose. “Well, uh, I’ll be heading off, then. Have a good evening, professor.”

“Have a good evening, Keith. And congratulations, once more.”

Keith nodded before he left the room to head to the dining hall. The news was still setting in. He had to tell Lance. He had to _tell_ Lance. Not just about the prize, but about his feelings.

But he couldn’t do that at dinner, he couldn’t do it afterward because he had to head for a late training session soon after. He didn’t want to wait until the next day. But what could he do?

At dinner, Lance was curious about the meeting with his professor. Keith said, “I’ll tell you later,” and Lance nodded, knowing not to pry right now, knowing that Keith would tell him in his own time. Keith was thankful that Lance always knew when to give space, when to say the right thing, to give the right gesture. He gave a reassuring smile, to make sure Lance knew he didn’t have to worry. Lance smiled back and reached out to squeeze his hand. Keith squeezed back.

Once he was on the field, once he was warming up with his team and practice had really started, he was able to distract his mind. He was calm and focused, though the back of his mind never stopped working, thinking about the prize, thinking about how, _when_ , he could tell Lance. But even if it was just training, as the captain, his team needed him, and he wouldn’t let them down, wouldn’t stop performing at his best. Plus, lucky for him, exercising had always been his preferred method for dissipation, never failed to stop his mind from running him into corners, calmed him from any bad moods in a way that only Lance could compare to.

When he returned to his room as night was falling, he was still calm, but restless at the same time. He dropped his gym bag on the floor.

There was no way he could go to sleep now, even with his muscles pleasantly sore from exertion. His room felt too small, felt like the walls were closing in on him. He needed to get outside, feel the air move around him again.

He turned on his heels and headed out of the door. He didn’t stop walking until he stepped out on the rooftop, until he reached the railing, campus spread out below him, the open sky above him. Lights were on here and there throughout different buildings, stars were twinkling and a crescent moon was shining down on him.

Keith turned around, leaning back against the railing and looked up. There was not a single cloud in the sky. Perfect conditions for a romantic night stargazing.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart was drumming so hard in his chest like he was gonna burst. The emotions were overflowing and he was in danger of drowning. But he wouldn’t. He had to tell Lance.

He had to tell him now.

He opened his eyes and pulled out his phone.

**come and meet me on the roof.**

There was no reply, but Lance had read the message. The next few minutes felt like a long, long time but finally, the door opened and Lance walked out to meet him. In the dim light, Keith could see that he had thrown his favorite satin, sky blue dressing gown over his pajamas and slipped tennis flats on his feet in favor of his lion slippers. The night breeze was ruffling his hair. Keith had seen him in this getup before, on lazy weekends relaxing in his room, but never quite like this. Even ready for bed, perhaps summoned while winding down with classical music, Lance was _beautiful_.

Lance had held his arms crossed in front of his chest like it was a habit when he was walking around without a binder. But now that he was joining Keith and saw that they were the only ones around, he dropped his arms to rest against the railing. He looked sleepy, but alert with curiosity at the same time.

There was a beat of silence as they were looking at each other before Lance asked, “What did you call me out here for?”

“I wanted to talk,” Keith replied.

“In the middle of the night under the starry sky?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Are we gonna play philosophers?”

Keith opened his mouth to reply but when Lance started hugging himself again, his mind switched gears. He frowned. “Why didn’t you dress warmer? The breeze still gets chilly at night.”

“I didn’t wanna bother getting dressed again and I didn’t wanna leave you waiting too long when I thought it might be urgent,” Lance mumbled, averting his face.

Keith sighed. He shrugged out of his varsity jacket and leaned in to drape it over Lance’s shoulders. “There you go, my frosty ice prince,” he teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance whined. Keith’s heart skipped a beat when he slipped his arms inside the sleeves of the jacket despite the mock-complaint.

“Would you rather I call you a human icicle?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“I _guess_ I’ll take the prince.”

Keith laughed softly. Looking at Lance wearing _his_ jacket, bright red over sky blue even discernible in the dim lighting, it was enough to make his heart jump. If Lance turned around and Keith could see his own name on Lance’s back, he figured he’d probably die on the spot. Lance wasn’t good for his heart sometimes, and yet the best thing to ever happen to him.

There was silence again, the only sound the rustling of leaves, the traffic in the distance.

Eventually, Lance asked, “So… what did you wanna talk about?”

Keith inhaled deeply. For a moment, he felt like time had stopped and rendered him motionless. He knew what he had to do, he just hadn’t thought about what to say. There were too many words, too many ways he could do this, romantic, sweet, casual. He hadn’t planned ahead and that might be foolish, but that’s who Keith was. Hotheaded, instinct-driven, speaking his mind. His impulse control was standing in front of him, looking at him with open, curious eyes. How ironic that in this case, there would be no stopping him.

One bat of eyelids later, Keith was let go from the spell. The words that left his lips were barely above a murmur, but ringing loud and clear through the night.

“I love you.”

Lance’s eyes widened, mouth falling open. “You—what?”

Keith took another breath before he looked right into Lance’s eyes. “I’m in love with you, Lance.”

For a heartstopping moment, there was no reaction. Keith didn’t dare move or breathe.

But then, the most beautiful smile bloomed on Lance’s face, taking Keith’s breath away in an entirely different sense. He wished he could capture the moment with his camera. But he would have to do with burning the image inside his heart, committing it to perfect memory so he could recreate it later.

Lance laughed breathlessly. “I never thought I would hear you say that to me. I’m… I’m speechless.”

“Good speechless or bad speechless?” Keith asked just to make sure, even though the answer was clear from the warmth in Lance’s smile.

“Very good,” Lance confirmed. “I can’t even put into words how happy I am right now, Keith.”

Keith smiled widely, wearing all his affection, all his love plain on his face. He leaned closer and reached out to take Lance’s hand, finally, _finally_ linking their fingers. Lance’s slender fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between Keith’s like they had always been made to be that way. Lance’s soft, delicate hands were a contrast to Keith’s rough hands, but both held the other equally strong like they never wanted to let go. Keith raised their joined hands up to his face, kissing each of Lance’s fingers. He was rewarded with a soft laugh.

He lowered their hands to rest on the wall and looked deep into Lance’s eyes. By day, they were clear like a lake under the summer’s sky. Now, they were dark, shining like the starry night above them. No matter what, they were beautiful, always beyond beautiful. Keith had never had a _favorite_ color until he looked into Lance’s eyes for the first time.

With his free hand, he reached out to cup Lance’s cheek, holding his chin up with his thumb, marveling at the feeling of soft skin beneath his fingertips. He glanced down at Lance’s lips, then back to his eyes. He caught Lance doing the same. Lance’s lips parted slightly in anticipation. Could he read Keith’s desire, just like Keith could sense his in that second?

And yet, even though it was tangible, Keith didn’t dive right in, _not this time_. He gave Lance’s hand a squeeze and asked, “Lance, can I kiss you?”

Lance breathed a laugh. “Please do,” he replied, squeezing back.

Keith squeezed again, holding eye contact a beat longer. When Lance’s eyes fluttered shut, it was Keith’s turn to laugh silently before he finally leaned in.

He had imagined kissing Lance so many times, during the day when his affection got the better of him, at night in his dreams when he wished to hold the other in his arms. But now it was really happening, he was kissing Lance, and Lance was kissing back. Lance’s lips were so much softer against his own than he could have ever imagined, moving so gently, shily. Keith couldn’t say that he was the most experienced, but he instinctively adjusted his angle, moved his hand to cup the back of Lance’s head, feeling the silky curls between his fingers. Lance’s arm wrapped around Keith, holding onto his shoulder.

When they parted, they stayed close, faces centimeters apart. The light reflected in Lance’s eyes, his smile was dazed and so beautiful. Keith knew that his own grin must be wider than ever before, judging by the way his cheeks felt like splitting. He leaned in to touch Lance’s forehead with his own, his hand stroking Lance’s hair, the thumb of his other hand stroking Lance’s. Lance huffed a laugh. His hand moved to hold onto Keith’s firm chest as if to feel the muscle even through the fabric of his t-shirt.

They stayed like this for a long moment until Keith said, “Let’s go back to my room. It’s getting late, and I really don’t wanna let go of you now that I know you’re my boyfriend.”

Lance’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s do that. I don’t want to let go of _my_ boyfriend either.

 _Boyfriend_.

Tasting the word on his tongue was sweeter than honey, hearing it in Lance’s voice was the loveliest melody. He wouldn’t get tired of this any time soon.

“Let’s go, then.”

Keith moved so he could lead Lance away from the roof. Their hands remained joined the whole way, until they stepped into Keith’s room and Keith locked the door behind them.

“Just toss my jacket somewhere and get comfortable, okay?” Keith said as he finally pulled his hand away to take off his shoes. “I have to get ready real quick.”

“What if I want to sleep in your jacket?” Lance asked as he toed off his flats as well. His smile was equal parts innocent and teasing.

“Trust me, I’m definitely up for seeing you in nothing but my jacket, but that’s bound to be uncomfortable.”

“Alright, you’ve won.” Lance huffed. “ _For now_. You can’t stop me next time.”

“Fine, fine.” Keith chuckled. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He stepped into the attached bathroom and got ready as quickly as he could. When he walked back out, he saw that Lance was already in bed, nestled up next to the wall. Both Keith’s jacket and Lance’s dressing gown were put neatly over the back of a chair. Keith stripped down to his boxer briefs, put his clothes on the seat, and finally slipped under the covers to join Lance.

Keith laid half on top of Lance as they shared a kiss, slow, deeper than the first. Lance’s arms wrapped around Keith’s neck, fingers playing with his hair. Keith’s hand started out resting against Lance’s face, then moved downwards, slowly, hesitantly. Lance let go with one hand to take Keith’s hand and guide it to his chest. Keith found himself squeezing not once, but twice.

Lance broke the kiss, a stream of giggles escaping him.

Keith pouted down at him. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, I can’t believe your first instinct is to squeeze,” Lance replied between giggles.

“Cut me some slack, I’m not very experienced with boobs.” Keith huffed.

“Aww honey, I’m joking. You know, I still squeeze my own boobs.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Lance’s eyes crinkled in a smile. He leaned in to kiss the corner of Keith’s lips. “Now stop pouting, okay? How can you be so hot but cute at the same time? It’s not fair.”

Keith snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah? Says the one who’s adorable, pretty, handsome, beautiful, lovely, and all around amazing all at once,” he said, emphasizing each adjective with a kiss to Lance’s face until he reached his neck. His hand wandered down from Lance’s chest to rest on his waist, rubbing the soft skin exposed between Lance’s shirt and pajama pants. “You have no idea how much I adore you.”

The soft sounds leaving Lance at his words, at his touch, were music to Keith’s ears.

“I can make a guess… but why don’t you show me?” Lance whispered.

Keith kissed his way down to Lance’s collarbone before he kissed upwards again slowly, then pulled away to look into Lance’s eyes. They were shining with shy affection, and Keith hoped that his own eyes held all his emotion, all his love. His own voice felt deeper, huskier when he murmured, “I’d be more than happy to do that.”

He leaned in to capture Lance’s lips once more. At the same time, he moved to close any space that was between them. He drank in Lance’s sweet scent, the taste of his lips, the sounds he made against Keith.

When they parted for breath, Lance looked flushed, his lips thoroughly kissed. His voice sounded breathless when he said, “Hey, Keith… maybe we should stop before… you know.”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We should catch some sleep.”

“I really want to do it, but…” Lance mumbled, trailing off at the end.

Keith understood. He took Lance’s hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. For emphasis, he gently pulled away Lance’s bangs with his other hand and pressed a kiss to Lance’s forehead. “Hey, it’s okay. We can do it once we’ve bought everything we need. There’s no rush.” A kiss to Lance’s adorable nose. “Because your comfort and safety will always be what’s most important.”

Lance sighed. “Just what did I do to deserve such a sweet, attentive boyfriend?”

“You were born and brightened up my life,” Keith replied. “You deserve the world, and I can only hope I can give it to you.”

“You sure make me feel like it.” Lance smiled. “I hope I can give it back, too.”

“Trust me, you do.” Keith kissed the corner of Lance’s lips. “Time for sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Keith moved to lie next to Lance. Lance shifted closer, nuzzling against Keith’s chest. Keith wrapped his arms around Lance and sighed against his hair. “Good night, Lance.”

Lance smiled against him. “Good night, Keith.”

Keith couldn’t remember falling asleep as easily, as soundly as he did that night, holding his boyfriend, feeling his even breathing against his skin. The feeling of soft skin and Lance’s sweet scent followed him in his dreams.

 

Waking up felt like a hyper-realistic dream, at first. But Keith knew that it wasn’t. Lance really was in his arms, nuzzled against him, holding onto him. Keith could feel his soft skin, his silky hair, take in his smell.

And he never wanted to miss this again.

He was torn; on one hand, he didn’t want to wake Lance up if he was still asleep. On the other hand, he couldn’t hold himself back. Carefully, he moved one arm to cradle the back of Lance’s head. He sighed and leaned in to feather kisses against Lance’s hair.

All this time, he’d dreamed of this, waking up with Lance in his arms, getting to see him in this intimate, vulnerable state. And now, it was _real_. They were boyfriends. This could be his every morning now. How did he get so lucky?

Keith didn’t know how much time passed like this, but eventually, Lance stirred with a sleepy sound. He pressed another kiss against Lance’s hair before he waited for Lance to look up at him. The way Lance blinked sleepily, the way his curls were a messy bedhead, the way his lips formed a pout—it made Keith’s heart soar from affection.

He moved his hand to cradle Lance’s cheek, gently stroking circles with his thumb. With a wide, warm smile, he murmured, “Good morning, sunshine.”

A smile bloomed on Lance’s face, the most beautiful rose in the garden as he leaned into the touch. “Good morning, Keith,” he said, then laughed softly. “I was ready to think last night was just a dream, but I’m so glad it wasn’t.” He laughed again as he pulled one hand away from Keith’s shoulder blades to put it over Keith’s hand on his cheek. His eyes shone warmly in the soft morning light. “This really happened. I’m your _boyfriend_. You’re _my_ boyfriend.”

It was Keith’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, if it was a dream, that’d just mean we still want the same thing, huh?” He leaned in to kiss between Lance’s eyes. “I can’t wait to take you out on romantic dates and take your breath away.”

“Well, I can’t wait to support you at matches with the sappiest banners and decked out with your name all over me.”

“I can’t wait to shout to the world at every opportunity that my boyfriend is the most beautiful, most talented musician.”

“And I can’t wait to brag that my boyfriend is not only a hot soccer player but also an incredibly inspiring artist and so sweet beneath his grumpy front.”

“Well, I can’t wait to dedicate each and every success to you.”

Lance laughed, his eyes crinkling, dimples on his cheeks as adorable as ever. “I can’t believe we’re having the who’s the better boyfriend competition the first morning after we get together.”

“I guess that’s just how we are.” Keith smiled. His expression fell for the briefest moment when he remembered—the other thing he had to tell Lance. “Hey… remember when I was called to the office yesterday?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yesterday you didn’t want to talk about it.” Lance’s expression was curious.

“I won,” Keith said. “The contest, I mean. The painting of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That’s why my professor wanted to talk yesterday,” Keith replied. “I won this prize at the last chance I had.”

“That’s amazing!” Lance grinned brightly. “I’m proud of you, Keith!”

“Thank you.” Keith smiled. “Will you go to the exhibit with me?”

“Duh? Of course I will!”

Keith laughed softly. “Just making sure.”

Lance only smiled in response. He snuggled closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of Keith’s neck and sighing contentedly. Keith held him tight, kissed the side of his head.

He knew that they had to get up and get ready for the day soon enough, but he didn’t care. Right now, life was perfect.

 

Keith felt excited when the art department’s exhibit opened with the new pieces on display. He was walking hand in hand with Lance, his insides warm, his fingers tingling pleasantly from the contact. They walked at a comfortable pace, admiring the hard work by fellow students.

But finally, they reached the centerpiece: Keith’s prized painting.

Keith held his breath as they stopped in front of it and Lance could read the sign next to it on the wall.

“ _Proud Love_ …?” Lance read out loud. He turned to look at Keith, surprise in his eyes. “That’s what you titled it?”

“Yeah. It’s just the perfect fit, you know.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I guess.” Lance smiled. “ _Especially_ now.”

Keith didn’t reply vocally. He raised their joined hands up to his lips, kissing each of Lance’s fingers, his thumb, the back of his hand. It was one of his favorite gestures; it was simple, but it expressed his affection perfectly. The fact that it elicited a flustered, giddy smile from Lance each time made it even better.

They stayed around, watching other people watch the painting. Hearing people comment on how it radiated pure love filled Keith with pride and satisfaction. Lance was leaning into his side, head resting on his shoulder. He rubbed gentle circles into Lance’s hand.

People catching sight of them gave them smiles—friendly, knowing, teasing, but never malicious. Some people stopped to chat, congratulating Keith on the prize, commenting on his techniques.

Keith got to talk about one of the things he loved most, with the boy he loved by his side. The most beautiful boy, who’d been his inspiration since they had first met, who’d given him so much brightness, a whole new world of joy and dedication. Who’d given him so much trust, so much support, who was ready to stay with him and accept everything he had to give in return.

He couldn’t have been happier than he was right now.

**Author's Note:**

> There's fanart for this fic!  
> https://pikey-wikey.tumblr.com/post/176501392284/love-you-in-every-color-thank-you-so-much-for-the
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/crystalklances), [tumblr](https://crystalklances.tumblr.com) and [instagram](https://instagram.com/crystalklances) where you can find out about different ways you can support me!


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